


Searching for Them

by Assassino



Series: Tales of the Division [1]
Category: Tom Clancy's The Division
Genre: Gen, No story spoilers, Original Character(s), Sacramento, Short Story, The Division, division
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-20 15:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19994368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Assassino/pseuds/Assassino
Summary: Before the events of The Division, a Division agent, who lives in a Sacramento ravaged by snow and blizzards, does his best to help the people around him. The story shows the aftermath of Black Friday and the people doing their best to survive the conditions. Traits such as kindness and empathy are difficult ones to hold onto when everyone is dying.





	Searching for Them

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the first stories that I've ever posted on here so thank you for happening to stumble upon my short story. I wrote this story a while ago and recently changes some parts to it so I would be satisfied with posting it. I hope you enjoy and I welcome any criticism from other writers or readers.

The howling winds of the blizzard, demanding entrance, were always the sounds that greeted me in the mid morning. After seemingly endless hours of listening to the snowstorm, I would force myself up from the mattress on the floor. My head was pounding and my eyes refusing to stay open. Standing up felt like rising from my grave and ripping off the sheets was like pushing against the dirt that buried me. I had the almost irresistible urge to just fall back into my worn out, stiff bed, but I pushed myself to face world. No matter how fucked up it is now. Eventually, I would make my way to the dresser and pick out clothes for the day. Black jeans, three different shirts for layers, two different pairs of socks, my old ripped winter jacket, thick grey snow gloves, and a black college beanie.

The last part of my attire was my black Division watch. I picked up the device to hold in my hand and the watch lit up with a warm, familiar orange color that I’ve seen many times since I was selected for the Division program. The orange circle on the watch was the symbol of the Strategic Homeland Division, or just the Division as most call us. I wrapped the watch around and felt the cold metal tighten on my wrist.

Walking out of my room in a zombie like state, I dragged myself in the living room. Mountains of plastic, empty supply crates and valleys of wrappers littered the floor of the room. The red leather couch looked like it had been through a woodchipper, ripped like it was clawed by a wolverine and various grooves on it like it had been slept on everyday. As I sat down, the couch protested with a loud squeak from the many years of abuse. There was no light in the room, only the small amounts of sunlight bleeding through the window blinds. The walls were barren and plain, except for one wall next to the kitchen refrigerator that I had used for planning out patrols. As Division, it’s my job to help people however I can in shitty situations like the one Black Friday left us in and even protect them if needed be. So a map of Sacramento helps to organize where shelters are and where hotspots for looters are located. A shelter in Sac State has been asking for some help with looters, it will be a few hours of walking from here.

I took a deep breath then let it out, thinking about everything that had happened since Black Friday. I tapped a button on my watch, the orange light lit up once again and filled the dim room with some life. “Hello agent,” the AI of the watch ISAC greeted upon activation. ISAC was made to help Division agents on operations by scanning areas for points of interest, providing data, and just accompanying us when you’re all alone. “ISAC, recount the events of Black Friday again for me.”

ISAC replying in the familiar, monotone male voice, “A mutated variation of smallpox, now known as the Dollar Flu, was released through United States dollar bills on November 27, 2015. Date of significant commonly known as Black Friday. The epicenter of the pandemic was in the heart of Manhattan, but several reports have centers of the illness located in other cities across the United States. Death tolls were confirmed to be as high as 4,230,4-”

“Okay stop.”

I crossed my arms and thought about all my college work, with my old laptop lying dead on the coffee table alongside burnt out candles that I had used for light the night before. The more I sat in this old couch, the more I wouldn't want to get up. The more I wanted to go back to worrying about midterms and missing my enrollment window for classes.

  
After a few minutes, I had pulled myself off the couch and walked over to the door. I reach down to grab my holster belt and throw on my large backpack, which was much heavier than I expected. It was filled to the brim with medicine, food, ammunition, and even clothes for people who needed it. It’s a big backpack and pain in the ass to carry around for almost 10 hours every day. At the side of the backpack was my holster belt on the floor, holding a Desert Eagle. After fastening my holster, I opened the door where a blast of fresh cold air pressed against my face. Snowflakes collided like meteorites with my face and melted on impact, making me feel the icy temperature on my skin. My feet dug into the thick layer of snow that caked the ground and latched onto my boots like a bear trap. Even though layers of clothing, it was still freezing. The courtyard in front of my small apartment was covered in snow, bushes that were now blocks of snow and the fountain in the middle frozen from the snowstorm’s breath. My apartment complex paled in comparison to some of Sacramento’s towers. We’re no San Francisco but enough to be capital I guess. Towers big enough to us. I clenched my right fist as much as I could through my gloves and took a deep breath of the winter air. I let out the icy air from my lungs, “ISAC, track how long it takes to get to Cal State Sacramento on foot from here.”

  
“Calculating route… Estimated time 2 hours and 35 minutes.”

  
It could be worse. I started to make my way to the street, trudging through the snow. I was anxious whenever I walked out in the open. Not because someone might take me by surprise or something, but because of how quiet the city was. This place use to be the one of the many busy centers of activity for California. Now this place felt like traversing through the ancient ruins of a long dead civilization. Deafening silence. Skyscrapers and buildings were completely empty for most of the time, devoid of any life or care. The only time life is ever seen in those buildings are from local raiders and looters gathering there. Only the most desperate stay there. Usually the ones infected.

  
I walked through an aisle of Toyotas, Fords, and whatever other brand of car you could think of. A lot of cars were abandoned the days after Black Friday and death tolls went into the millions. So now many of them sit on the streets, creating mazes of steel. Hundreds of vehicles deserted and stripped of many usable parts. One deviation from the assortment of cars were the occasional signs that read “MERCY GENERAL HOSPITAL DETOUR” with arrows pointing north of the street. Aside from the sound of my boots crushing the snow under my feet, echoes of distant gunshots and screaming could be occasionally heard from miles away. 95% of the day, the city was dead.

  
“Excuse me, sir?”

  
I heard a woman’s voice from behind me. When I turned to her, I saw a woman wearing a surgical mask. She wore an old tattered snowcoat that made her figure much smaller, a brown knit beanie, loose blue jeans that didn’t seem to fit her anymore, and tennis shoes that buried her feet in the snow. Her cheeks were sunken in from the lack of anything. She was shaking and had her hands stuffed in the sleeves of her coat.

“I need food. Please…”

  
I pulled off my backpack, “I got some food in here that I can give you. Just let me get it.”

  
I crouched down and rested on my knee to reach into my bag. As I was rummaging through my supplies, I heard the familiar click and clack of a pistol above my head. I halted and stared at the tip of her shoes, “Do not move or I will shoot you.” I could feel the steel of the barrel press against my head.

  
I calmly sighed, “Don’t do this, lady. I have supplies back at my home. I can take you there and you are welcome to take anything you want.”

  
“Backpack, now,” her tone changed into a much more confident demeanor. But I could still hear her voice shake. I’ve heard a lot of voices shake since Black Friday.

  
I started to close up my backpack as slowly as I could. My knee was freezing from resting on a bed of snow, both cold and wet. My breathing grew heavier with each movement, clouds of freezing air escaping my mouth. It shouldn’t be too hard to get out of this, but this woman still has a gun. And it looked like she could collapse at any moment. I didn’t want to hurt her and maybe I could still give her something.

  
The wind started to pick up more and I could feel the snow pile up on the right side of my body. The snowstorm was screaming, sending its icy shriek throughout the city. “Temperature dropping to 45 degrees Fahrenheit.” Very helpful in this situation ISAC.  
“You and I both don’t want to do anything that we might regret. We can both get out of this alive.”

The woman did not respond. She pressed the front of the gun to the top of my head.

  
“Please, I have a family,” I lied.

  
I didn’t hear or feel any response from her for a while. I could still feel my knee freezing and the gun still pressed against my skull. Then I could hear her breathing, getting deeper and more bunched together. But then it slowed again. Back to normal, as if she reaffirmed herself about something.

  
“Give me the backpack, now.” Her voice was not wavering, much like shake. She was standing her ground but maybe I can still get through to her.

  
“I have two sick kids at home. Both with the Dollar flu. I need this medicine for them, please,” I lied to her once again. I hoped that this might break through.

  
She dug the gun deeper into my head, pushing me back a bit. I could see that she dug her shoes into the ground further.

  
“GIVE ME THE BAG!”

  
As soon as she finished, I raised my right hand to swipe her gun away from my head and to the side. I held her hand in place, away from me, and heard the deafening pop of the gun’s discharge. My left ear was ringing like a church bell but I used my free hand to snatch the gun away from her. I quickly stood up, took three steps back, and pointed the gun at the woman.

  
As soon as I faced her, I paid attention to her face more. Her eyes were red, bloodshot and beating with emotion. Not with sadness but with anger. She looked at the gun that I had taken from her and scowled at me with such disgust, as if I had done something wrong to her in some way.

  
She opened her mouth to say something and closed it quickly after. The woman ran into the nearby alley to my left. I let her go. I didn’t want to kill her. She’s just desperate. Just like everyone else. Maybe she lost someone when it all started. Maybe she actually had a family. Maybe she hated Division.

  
I picked up my backpack and stuffed the gun in with the rest of my items. I shouldn’t have gotten myself into that mess. I should have been more cautious with that. But how could I have suspected her? She looked like she hadn’t gotten any food in weeks.  
I continue to march through the snow. It was starting to get colder and I could feel my feet freezing, even through my boots. I can’t imagine how she felt in her shoes. I cupped my hands in front of my mouth and breathed into them for some warmth. I had to keep moving. But I couldn’t stop thinking of what I could have done better.

  
\--------------------------------

  
“Time to the shelter ISAC?”

  
“1 hour and 45 minutes.” I need to cut some time. Along the path, there’s mainly nothing of significance except for a makeshift shelter under the intersections of two freeways. In the heart of the city, there’s a large intersection of highways that has been recently used as a mass shelter for the people cast out by other shelters. It’s a tent city of runaways, criminals, and the sick. But I have to cross through there if I want to make it to the university quicker and before the weather gets worse.

  
Entering through the first arch of one of the freeways, there were already various tents and campfires people have set up. The fabric of the tents jolted and rustled in the winds of the snowstorm. One of these tents housed a small family, where the mother was cooking some food over the fire while her kids slept at her side. Other sites were not so pleasant. One tent was housing two people, a couple. One man was nursing a woman lying in a sleeping bag as best as he could, giving her soup made from the campfire. The woman looked ghastly, her face pale and ravaged by a rash that covered every part visible in blisters. The woman’s eyes were blank and weak. Poor woman wasn’t one of the lucky few to be immune. Another tent was filled with a father and six kids of varying ages. The man looked distressed and exasperated as he stared at his pot of boiling water. A different tent was only one person, sleeping inside. I couldn’t look clearly inside but whoever was sleeping in there was rustling so violently in their sleeping bag.

  
When I walked over to the couple and handed the man some of the antibiotics that I had, his face was of genuine surprise. “I don’t have a cure but this is what I can do.” He thanked me for the medicine. The small family noticed this and asked for some clothes, which I then pulled out some spare clothes that I carried in my backpack. Not their size but it’s hard to complain. Then the exasperated man begged me for food, which I gave him some of the canned food that I carried with me. Then another family needed some morphine for their daughter. Then a man needed some sheets for his bed since the blizzard blew his old ones away. Then a woman needed shoes so she could at least lower the chance of frostbite. Then a child begged me for some food, even leftovers and scraps from what I already gave. I was being swarmed by people from the tents. I ran out of free supplies to give to everyone. I squeezed through the crowd and repeatedly told these people I had nothing else. It took a while but they eventually dispersed, with disappointment and hopeless looks displayed. If I could carry all the crates of supplies from my place to here, I would.

  
Then there was the worst part of the tent city. A place like this can’t even house a handful of people, let alone hundreds. So people die. Whether it’s from hunger, or sickness, or Dollar flu, or even by another’s hands when the government sends supplies but there isn’t enough to go around. Where do you put those people when the cemeteries are full? The Mound.

  
The Mound was where everyone in tent city put their dead. A pile of bodies of loved ones, criminals, and sick. I could see more people tossing bodies onto the pile, looking away as quickly as they could and covering their nose. The Mound was covered in a massive black tarp but you could still see what it was, and smell it. The smell was horrific and putrid, much like a mixture of raw sewage and durian. It was death in its most potent and horrific form. I had to put on my gas mask just walking past it and even then, the stench just barely pierced the mask. “Warning, scan detects high levels of contamination and disease from concentration of corpses,” ISAC reported to me. Some of the worst parts of the Mound were some of the more recently dead froze. Almost like in stasis at the time of death. Living as a constant reminder to the people of this place that their lives are nothing to live for. That eventually, you would be adding yourself to this.

  
Some crazy assholes even set up shop next to the Mound, placing a massive tent next to the largest pile of bodies. It’s the best way to be left alone here I guess.

  
God, I wish I could help these people more. I don’t have enough stockpile for everyone, not even for ten tents. There’s too many people to help. I can’t help everyone but I can’t think about it too much right now. “How long till we arrive at the shelter ISAC?”  
“Estimated walk time is currently 1 hour and 20 minutes.” I have to hurry. I cut through the Mound and make my way out of the tent city. I force myself to not look at any more of the tents. I heard babies crying, people violently coughing, some coming to me begging for anything I had. But I had to push them out. I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t focus.

  
\--------------------------------

  
The people of this shelter had set up at the university, Cal State Sacramento. The campus wasn’t too big but it was good enough to house a decent amount of people comfortably. The buildings of the university were very modern and sleek compared to the rest of the city. Layers of snow fell onto the tops of the buildings. Most of the people were in this location of the university called The Well, which used to be a gymnasium that was now repurposed as a medical bay. Guards were stationed at the entrance and others were patrolling around the college.

  
One guard stopped me and I lifted up my arm to show him my watch. He opened the glass doors for me. Walking through them, I was met with various beds and stretchers that the sick had laid on. Not a single one that wasn’t occupied. There were doctors with medical masks and paramedic patches on their jacket. Some sick had families standing by them. Some of the sick had no one. Some of the sick were probably too hopped up on medicine to even notice what was happening. The only person that didn’t look like a doctor or civilian was a woman talking to one of the doctors.

  
This woman seemed to be in her late 30s, about. Her hair was made into a tight ponytail with her black, charcoal hair. Her eyes were stern and locked onto the rest of the people while the doctor spoke to her. Her face wrinkles and I could see a few grey strands of hair in her ponytail. She wore a black long coat and brown boots to protect her from the cold, as well as gloves.

  
She spotted me looking at her, not changing her expression. She saw my watch and started to walk up to me.

  
“So you’re the Division agent? Good, we could use you.”

  
Confused for a bit as she walked away from me, “Nice to meet you too, ma’am?”

  
She started to walk past the medical bay and deeper into the Well. I followed her, “Don’t call me ‘ma’am.’ Sara Rows. I manage this shelter and my lookouts have informed me of looters that are potentially planning on raiding this shelter.”  
“Okay, why this place? There’s about 20 other shelters in this part of the city alone. Why this one in particular?”

  
“Because of this,” she turned to one of the doors in the back of the gym. The door was guarded by two men who looked very different from the guards outside in their jeans and polo shirts. One of them opened it when she noticed Rows came over. Inside was a large closet full of crates, a treasure trove of supplies. Medicine, food, clothes, even weapons. All from the military, the government, and from the state before the directive. I had never seen this much. Not even my place has this much.

  
“You have enough here to feed all of the tent city by the intersection. You have enough here to feed this entire part of the city, why not share it? It’s useless to keep it all here,” I replied to her reveal. I kept myself steady and firm. I don’t want to get too worked up but this was a lot.

  
“Those people out there are in critical condition and I cannot support them with just supplies. They need medical teams, shelter, constant food and medicine. I do not have the resources or the capacity here for all of those people.”

  
“So you just leave people out there to die? Can’t you at least help these people in some way? Even if it’s just food and water.” I noticed that my voice was growing louder.

  
“Those people out there are hopeless. I care about the ones I have now and only that alone,” she continued, keeping her eyes aimed at mine. “I need you to look for the looters targeting this place and eliminate them.”

  
I scoffed at her, “Eliminate them…” She saw me as just some mercenary. “Look, I’m not some hitman or soldier you can order around. Division help people, all people. This is not helping all people. It’s wrong to just leave those people to die.”

  
“If you don’t agree with what I want, then don’t do it. I’ll find someone else,” she then closed the door and started to walk back to the medical bay.

  
“You want to find another Division agent, go ahead! See if you can find their bodies.”

  
She paused and slowly turned to me. Her gray eyes were still aimed in my direction, “Fine. Do it your way. I don’t care how you deal with them, but if any of these sick die because of you, I will shoot you myself.”

  
I leered at her for a moment, “I guess we have an agreement then.”

  
She didn’t break her stare for one moment, “I suppose we do.” Rows turns away and continues walking to the main part of the Well.

  
I started walking out of the Well. This woman has a massive amount of supplies, enough to at least help those people outside. But she’s just sitting on all of it. And she’s treating me like a hitman. The Division agents were trained only to fight if necessary. Not go out and hunt. Our main purpose is to help people in any way we can and stabilize the situation. Maybe even work to have things go back to how they were before but that’s a pipe dream right now.

  
Making my way out, I noticed all the people in the med bay. These people have medical professionals, antibiotics, medicine, everything they need to get better. They have protection. They have everything. They got lucky. Others not so much.

  
I wouldn’t be surprised if Rows has never even set foot outside of this place. I pushed the glass doors open and made my way back into the blizzard.

  
\--------------------------------

  
The first place to look for them has to be tent city. I can’t look through every abandoned building and it would be a good starting place for the search. Walking back into tent city meant that I had to pass through the Mound first. My stomach started to get into a strong disagreement with my body whenever I was near it. I hated even looking at it. The horrid smell had a grasp that stretched at least half a mile out. The smell of death and corpses was so strong that it made my nostrils burn. I strapped the gas mask to my face and explored the area around the Mound.

“ISAC, scan the area for anyone near the Mound.”

  
I crouched myself near one of the smaller piles of corpses, making sure not to make contact with any of the dead bodies or look at any of them in the eyes. “Scan complete. Scan picked two armed personnel, about 20 feet from your current position.”  
I peaked my head slightly above the small mound. The large tent I saw earlier was towering above some of the mounds. From what I could see through the entrance, there was a small stack of supply crates and plastic packets of food. Assault rifles and other weapons were lazily thrown next to that pile as well. No one needs this much firepower, especially in tent city. Looks like I found some of the looters.

  
To the left of the tent were two men holding weapons. One of the men loosely hung a shotgun from his fingers and rested his arm on a stack of opened crates. He seemed to be talking to the other man, who wasn’t looking at the other man and firmly gripped his rifle. I started to sneak my way to them. Each step I took was heavy and slow, enough to make the least amount of noise. My boot heel made a slight crunch against the cold cement when I stepped forward but they couldn’t hear me luckily. I put my hand on my gun and my finger on the trigger. I hope I don’t need to do anything final.

  
The lazy man started to talk, “It’s an easy job. Boss’s plan is simple. Should be just in and out.”

  
Then the other man replied, “It doesn’t seem like a risk we should take. We could go to the outskirts. Take scraps from the hospital, maybe even steal some from the people here-”

  
“These people have shit. Outskirts have been picked clean. We need this to go well.” The man gave an audible sigh, “I’m just happy that I didn’t get assigned there.”

  
I was only a few feet behind the two men. I pulled my Desert Eagle from my holster and inserted a clip into it. I stood up and slammed the handle onto the back of lazy man’s neck. Immediately, the man collapsed onto the floor and dropped with a small thud to the cement, shotgun dropping to his side. I flipped my gun to point at the other man and he had frantically readied his assault rifle, sights straight on me. Just about two feet apart once he had slowly moved back to a point. We stood in silence for two minutes and had our eyes locked on each other, like a staring contest. His eyes were wide open and I could see the rifle slightly shake. I’ve seen a lot of hands shake since Black Friday. Both of us could hear the blizzard continue to rage on above the highway tracks.

  
“Look, I don’t want to shoot you. And you don’t have to shoot me. I just need to know what you guys are planning,” I stated.

  
He looked down at the ground for a moment. I could see his heavy breathing because of the cold. He darted back up after a few seconds.

  
“I heard you aren’t really sure about their plans. I can help you if you need help,” I continued.

  
He looked down again but this time at my wrist. He turned his eyes back to me, “You’re one of them.” His voice almost soft enough to where I couldn’t hear it.

  
I nodded my head and lowered my gun into my holster, “Yeah, I’m one of them.”

  
He kept his rifle aimed at me for a moment. I stared at him and he stared back. I didn’t move. He didn’t give any signals or gestures but I could tell that his mind was racing. It wasn’t the first time I had been staring down the barrel of a gun and staring down the person holding it, but this moment stretched on for an eternity. This man seemed like a good person. I put my faith that he won’t shoot me. I really hoped that he wouldn’t shoot me. I thought about the repercussions and how everyone here would freak out and disperse and the college would be raid and hundreds would die and-

  
He lowered his rifle and I sighed in great relief. After he sighed as well, he explained, “They’re planning to raid the Sac State. Someone tipped them off to the supplies they have. They should already be there now.”

  
This got a bit more complicated, “What’s your name?”

  
“Jacob.”

  
“Have anyone you love?”

  
He nodded in response but didn’t respond immediately. He looked down, as if he had dropped something next to lazy man’s body.

  
“I have three kids. I only took this job to take care of them. We got nowhere else to go.”

  
I need to help him. I don’t know why he isn’t allowed in the shelters and I don’t care, but I have to help anyway I can, “Look, once we stop these guys, I will help you find somewhere to live with your kids. I’ll take care of anything you need too.”

  
Jacob looked confused, “Why are you offering to help? I got nothing for you.”

  
“I’m not letting anyone else die if there’s something I can do about it. Now follow me and let’s go. We have to hurry if we have any chance of helping the shelter.”

  
As I started to run back, Jacob yelled back, “Wait!” I turned back to face him.

  
“Promise me you’ll keep me alive. Please.”

  
I stared at him and he looked a bit confused for a moment, “Not for me, but for my kids. They don’t have anyone else, please.”

  
I knew if I took him, he might die. I couldn’t keep that promise if I made it. But his eyes were wide in desperation and fear. He was being genuine.

  
“I promise.” I had to at least try to keep it.

  
\--------------------------------

  
I ran as fast as I could towards Sac State. Jacob followed behind, both of us trotting through the snow as the storm above got even angrier. The winds were blowing harder and the snowfall was creating a violent, thick fog all around us. My face and nose were freezing while the cold was piercing through my thick clothing even further. We were almost at the shelter but then I heard gunshots. I signaled Jacob to stop. Assault rifle rounds being fired, rifle shots discharged. I was too late. We were too late. The raid has already started. After a few minutes, we reached the Well and saw the outside glass was cracked from bullet holes. None of the sick were in the medical bay anymore and I couldn’t see any of their bodies, minus the guards. That’s a goddamn relief. I ran inside and checked the backroom where they showed me the supplies. Some of the crates were still there but a good amount were missing. Gunshots were coming from the back of the Well. The looters took the supplies and most of it was medical supplies. These people won’t last a month with what’s left.

  
“They’re using the firefight as a diversion to take the supplies,” Jacob exclaimed as he started at the crates.

  
“Then we go to the firefight.”

  
Jacob grabbed my arm before I could walk out towards the fight, “Are you insane? You go out there, you die. I don’t care if you got some fancy watch or government training, these people fight dirty. They will not hesitate to kill you.”  
I ripped my arm away, “We have to try. They leave with the supplies, these people die in a matter of weeks. I don’t want that for anyone.”

  
I could barely see anything. But I could see lights through the snow. Flashes of bullets being launched from all sides. I couldn’t tell where everyone was but the blasts of light gave me some idea. Between the intense cold and the blizzard winds, I couldn’t tell who was a looter and who was a guard. The fog covered everything. I looked around to look for Jacob. He was right behind me, gripping as hard as he could onto his rifle. Even with the gunfire, I could hear his breathing, labored and showing how scared he was. The blizzard should provide us some cover from not getting shot.

  
I saw a group of three looters dragging crates away from the fight. I could make the slight silhouette of a pile of them. I started to run towards them. I heard the discharge of a bullet and saw the muzzle flash from the corner of my eye, feeling the sharp pain in my calf. I kept moving but the pain in my leg made me move slower. Discharge. Flash. This time, the bullet penetrated my shoulder. I grinded my teeth and gripped my shoulder. The bullet is stuck in my shoulder and I can’t move my left arm without feeling intense pain. God, it fucking hurts. I looked around and tried to look for Jacob but the blizzard was getting stronger and I couldn’t see him. I kept going.

  
I pointed my Desert Eagle at the looters, “Stop this now!” They stopped and turned to me. “I don’t want to kill any of you. You can leave and just-”

  
The familiar sharp pain went through my shoulder again and I yelled from it. Blood ran down my shoulder and hands as the bullet went through booth. The force of the bullet and my weakened state had me fall to the snow, onto my back. I tried to get back up but struggled to even move my arm, still clutched by my hand. I heard one of the looters put down a crate and he walked over to me. Even if I could lift my arm, I dropped my gun out of reach. He wore a gas mask and a hazmat suit. I couldn’t tell what he or she even looked like. All I could see was the barrel of his rifle. Until I heard bullets from deeper in the blizzard. The hazmat suit took four bullets into the stomach and fell to the ground. I saw bullets get exchanged from the looters and the mystery gunman. I heard three bodies fall to the ground, then I heard one last one fall. Then after a few seconds, I heard someone choking. I turned myself around with a lot of effort, the snow turning red from my blood. It hurt to move and even breathe. I wanted to lie down and just rest on the cold, white snow. But I knew I couldn’t. “Jacob!” I got up, even if I was about to pass out, and went over to Jacob.

  
He lied on the ground with his rifle at his side. I could see bullet wounds on his chest, the blood spilling onto his white shirt. A bullet went into throat and he had a hand on his neck. I frantically crouched to his side and pulled out some medical supplies. I saw him shake his head.

  
“My kids… help them…” He could barely speak from the blood loss in his throat.

  
“You are going back to your kids, Jacob. I promised you, don’t die!”

  
I tired to get some gauze or even a lighter to cauterize the wound. I desperately tried to cover his wounds. But I couldn’t save him. Jacob bled out on the snow and without peace. I broke my promise to him and now I’m surrounded by this frozen hell as the gun fire slowed to nothing.

  
\--------------------------------

  
I spent months trying to find Jacob’s kids. I searched the empty towers, nearby buildings, tents, but I couldn’t find them. I still continue to search for them. I go to nearby shelters to see if they’ve recently brought in any children. I search on the outskirts of Sacramento. I don’t know why I still search for them. They might be dead or freezing or starving at this point. But I still hold onto the hope that they might still be out there. I hold onto the hope that they survived and I can take them in. If I didn’t, I don’t know what I would do. I have to have some kind of hope that I can do better. Without that hope, I would probably go insane.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for making it this far! I mainly posted this for myself because I have been meaning to just write something for the world to see. I didn't think anyone would actually read this so thank you so much.


End file.
